


Like the Sun Came Out

by lydiamrtin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, POV Lydia, Romance, Stiles Makes It Better, pack ignores lydia without meaning to, stiles/malia is minor don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiamrtin/pseuds/lydiamrtin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off this prompt from tumblr on stydia-fanfiction: </p><p>kira and scott and stiles and malia are on a double date and lydia sees them all together so they all feel guilty and stiles tries to make her feel better and fluffiness happens</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the Sun Came Out

  Lydia Martin, in the front seat of her mom’s car, leaned against the window with her pale legs crossed on a cool, crisp September evening. She maintained her composure, even if it was just her mother in the car. She wore her despondency like a translucent veil; her misery was apparent, and the rest was tucked away beneath the surface. To anyone who knew her, she’d grown frostier since the death of her best friend Allison and no longer granted herself those spontaneous bursts of laughter or momentary smiles. That was only half the truth.

She was lonelier, much more so than she'd like to admit. She missed Allison, and she missed her other best friend, Stiles.

Stiles Stilinski, the boy who had pined after her from the third grade up until about a few years ago.

Stiles Stilinski, the boy who had finally stopped worshipping the ground she’d walked on and actually taken the time to develop a close relationship with her.

Stiles Stilinski, the boy whom she’d kissed to stop his panic attack.

Stiles Stilinski, the boy who was now happily dating the tall, beautiful, brunette Malia Tate.

Stiles Stilinski, the boy she’d slowly but surely fallen in love with.

“We’re here, Lyds.”

Her mother’s calm tone put a wrench in her agitated thoughts, coaxing her from them.

Lydia winced. Stiles had used to call her that.

_Stop. Stop this now._

Lydia huffed, straightened her posture, and erased all traces of emotion from her face. After smoothing out her glossy, ginger curls, she unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car.

“So, what school supplies do you need?” her mother asked as they began walking towards Target.

“My teachers told us everything we need. I made a list,” Lydia replied, pulling out her phone. As she was typing in her password, she heard laughter from up ahead. Lydia paused.

 _Familiar_ laughter …

She heard it again. She knew that laugh …

That was Scott McCall’s laugh.

Lydia spun to the right, towards the noise. Ahead of her were four figures strolling side by side, and it didn’t exactly take intensive deducing to identify them.

The one with the black braid on the right end had to be Kira Yukimura, and the one directly to her left holding her hand was definitely her boyfriend Scott. Malia was the one in the middle with the booty shorts- who else could it have been? The guy beside her, without a trace of doubt, was Stiles.

Lydia’s breath caught in her throat. She ogled longingly after him; desperate, shameful want gnawed at her. She sighed and shook her head. Perks of living in an almost unrealistically small town.

A chorus of laughter erupted from the group. Scott was nearly doubled over in laughter, and Malia staggered to the left, straight into Stiles’ welcoming arms. He hugged her waist tightly and planted a kiss on her temple.

Lydia watched with watering eyes as they reached Stiles’ infamous jeep that had been through the mill and then some, and was, miraculously, still functioning.

“Can I drive, Stiles, _please?”_ she heard Malia beg, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their PDA was honestly obnoxious; Malia had no boundaries or respect for the public’s eye.

Lydia couldn’t make out Stiles’ answer. He knew how to control his volume in public unlike Malia, who could rouse people in China with her megaphonic voice. He began fishing for his keys hidden in one of his many pockets. Lydia shook her head at him fondly. _Idiot_. She blinked, snapping out of it. _You’re too late. Stop this now._

“Hey, Scott, Kira, keep it PG-13 in the back, alright?” Stiles ordered them. Naturally, the couple chortled in response.

Malia made her way around the car to ride shotgun. Lydia couldn’t watch anymore.

“Lydia? Don’t you want to go say hi to your friends?” her mom inquired, sounding slightly too concerned for Lydia’s liking.

“No . . . It’s fine, they’re on a double date. They don’t get a lot of those these days, plus I’m gonna see them tomorrow. Let’s just go.”

Lydia blinked away the small tears threatening to escape her eyes and continued forward. She pried her eyes away from the periwinkle jeep abandoning its parking spot and beginning to drive towards her-  _Towards her._

Lydia’s heart hammered in her throat, and she hated herself for it. Dread seeped into her bones when the car slowed to a stop right beside her. She plastered a smile on her face and waved shyly when Stiles rolled down his window.

“Hey, Lydia!” he greeted with a grin. His warm, whiskey colored, crinkling almond eyes twinkled with what Lydia shamefully hoped was delight.

“Hi, guys!” Lydia saluted, praying to God she didn’t sound too hollow. But she had forgotten that Stiles could read her like a book until she saw his smile morph into a frown.

“Lydia, you-"

“HEY, LYDIA!”

Scott and Kira’s cheery faces were poking out of the window they'd just rolled down. 

“Hey!” she saluted with another wave- what was she _doing?_ These were her _friends_ - and then internally slapped herself for how forced it sounded.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but Lydia beat him to it. “Sorry, I really have to get going. This place closes early on Sundays. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, right? Have fun!”

Scott and Kira chorused a still cheerful but now slightly concerned bye and rolled back up the window. She turned to Stiles, who was now studying her. Lydia suddenly felt queasiness in her stomach, but kept up her gleeful façade until Stiles shook the look off his face, gave an “Okay, bye, Lyds!” and drove away.

He’d called her Lyds. A small smile crept up on her face until Lydia caught herself and smacked it off.

…

The shrill bell rang in Lydia’s eardrums bright and early Monday morning. Lydia allowed her fatigue-ridden, heavily made up eyes to flutter closed for just a few fleeting seconds before blinking the tired right out of them and straightening her slouched posture. Last year she hadn’t cared as much about her appearance as years before, but this was Lydia’s senior year, and she wanted to go out with a bang. Lydia would not allow a single speckle of weakness to leak through her mask.

…

All had been going according to plan, all up until that Wednesday, during lunchtime. At the end of the jock table sat Lydia across from Scott and Kira. To Lydia’s right sat Stiles and Malia, who were feeding each other goldfish with a dorky smile from Stiles as Malia laid her head on his shoulder. Gross.

Lunch with her friends had been mostly peaceful, apart from the crippling sense of loneliness weighing down on her on a daily basis. She missed Allison, and she missed—

“Lydia?”

The sound of Stiles’ curious tone lured her back to reality.

“Huh?”

“I said,” began Stiles, “do you wanna study for math with me today?”

“I thought you and Malia usually studied together,” Lydia quipped, before internally reprimanding herself. Stiles was trying to be nice, and here she was being ungrateful.

Stiles’ brow furrowed in confusion for a fleeting moment before a flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m helping her because she’s in a lower math class. This is advanced _calculus._ I need _your_  help, Lyds, you evil genius."

Scott and Kira released a hearty thread of cackles at the Friends reference, and Lydia just smiled to herself, her eyes crinkling and the corners of her mouth shaking with the effort. 

_Lyds._

The way the nickname rolled off his tongue so easily shouldn’t have spread such warmth through her, shouldn’t have splattered such hot blush across her cheeks, and definitely shouldn’t have jumpstarted her heart the way it did.

She could sense Scott’s questioning— but not prying, bless him— gaze on her at the increase of her heart rate. Flustered, she carded her slender, pale fingers through her silky, red ribbons of hair. She flashed a small smile— not too wide like last time— and shrugged.

“Sure! Let’s do it at mine,” she offered nonchalantly, as if this weren’t a big deal even though it was.

Stiles grinned.

“Great!” he exclaimed jubilantly, which jolted Lydia’s heart again. She didn’t have to look left to witness Scott’s eyebrows rising higher in question.

“Okay,” she smiled. 

"Can I just come straight to yours? I have to help this one over here with her history paper afterwards." Stiles gently but sort of stiffly nudged at Malia, who was still leaning on him. 

"Hmm?" she mumbled, nuzzling at his neck like an animal. 

"Nothing, just that I'm helping you with homework later today," Stiles replied with a chuckle that didn't quite sound right, as he shook her off and momentarily closed his eyes, which immediately spiked Lydia's interest. 

"Can I go home with you?" Malia asked him, ignoring his previous dismissal and scooting closer to him, linking his hand with hers. Lydia cringed. She could feel Scott's eyes on her again. 

And what was going to happen next but Stiles squeezing their hands and making an exaggerated pouty face at his girlfriend? 

"Sorry babe, I can't today. Just get a ride from Scott or take the woods or something. You're a fucking werecoyote." 

Scott and Kira laughed at that, while Malia's smile rapidly disappeared and her eyebrows slowly furrowed. A dizzying surge of power rushed to Lydia when she realized she enjoyed every second of it. She begrudgingly reminded herself that she'd definitely had her chance, that she'd wasted it, and that she didn't deserve it. Just like that her shining moment of glory dissipated and murky shame trailed in its wake. 

This time Stiles let Malia remain dangling like a tacky piece of jewelry on him. He looked . . . Lydia couldn't quite place it, but something was off about him. 

 _"Fine,"_ she huffed into his shoulder. Stiles visibly flinched at that. If anyone noticed, no one said anything. 

…

She was still internally freaking out that afternoon when she and Stiles emerged from school and into the senior lot. She hated that she was getting so worked up over a boy. She was _Lydia Martin_. Boys got worked up over _her._

And this was _Stiles._ He was about the closest thing she had to a best friend right now. She knew that they hadn’t hung out in a while, but she also knew that he would never judge her for anything. She was slowly letting him back into her life. However, she still shuddered with self-disgust when a bone chilling realization hit her: She needed him. And that terrified her more than anything.

“—dia? Lydia?”

Lydia blinked, clearing her head.

“Lyds?”

“S-Sorry. Spaced out.”

“My jeep’s that way.” Stiles pointed ahead to the left. 

Lydia’s shoulders began to shake with silent laughter. She had fallen in love with an idiot.

“What’s— What’s so funny?”

Gaining confidence, Lydia stopped walking and turned to Stiles, placing a patronizing hand on his shoulder.

“Stiles.”

“What?” he chuckled.

“I have to get my car home, too.” Lydia was really trying not to laugh.

“But Lyds, it’s been forever since you’ve ridden in my jeep! My baby misses you,” he pouted.

Lydia burst into laughter at that, and her hands involuntarily flew to her mouth, trying to cover, cover, cover.

Stiles looked almost comically wounded from that gesture.

“Lydia, don’t cover up your laugh! I’m a funny guy.”

She allowed herself a few giggles at that.

"Plus, I can drive you! I can even take you back to school after, it's on the way to Malia's house anyway. Come on. For old time's sake, let's go."  Stiles grabbed her hand and pulled her along. Lydia gasped and bursted out laughing, grasping his hand tightly to prevent herself from tripping on her 3-inch heels. Stiles pulled her all the way to his jeep, rambling about how nowadays the jeep would break down "5 out of 7 days a _week,_ Lyds!" and he'd have to get out "the god damned duck tape" even short drives, "like the one to  _your_ house, Lyds!" 

Lydia's heart rushed and she thanked him with blushing cheeks when he opened the car door for her. Of course, it took three tries for the engine to actually start, Stiles drumming his fingers a little faster on the steering wheel and pursing his lips a little tighter each time. 

"Hey, it's okay, there's no rush," Lydia consoled, hesitantly reaching out to place a hand of comfort on his shoulder. Obviously something more than the jeep was bothering him. She ended up receding her hand, placing it in her lap and wrapping her other hand tightly around it to prevent her from reaching for him again. Stiles wasn't hers to touch. 

"THAT'S NOT WHAT-" Stiles' burst of rage made her jump. He sighed and ran his hands through his dusky, gelled hair.

"Sorry. I'm just- let's just- I'm sorry."

Lydia looked at him. He fidgeted under her gaze. 

"Have you been talking to Ms. Morell?" she asked him.

"Not since she threatened to kill me while I was in Eichen if I went under again," he replied stoically, strategically avoiding the use of the word "Nogitsune." He jammed the keys into the ignition for the fourth time, and the jeep revved to life like a bear awakening from hibernation. 

Lydia was speechless. 

"Stiles, I didn't know." 

He smiled softly at her, and she could've melted. "I know, it's okay, I never told you. Not your fault, Lyds." 

"It's not yours either," she told him. 

No response. 

He maneuvered the stick, backed them out of the parking spot, and began the four minute drive to Lydia's house they'd made hundreds of times before. They fell into a silence that shouldn't have been peaceful but was. 

…

Stiles parked to the left of Lydia's driveway, and was already out of the car, darting around the front, and opening the passenger door before Lydia'd had the chance to unbuckle her seatbelt. She laughed. 

"Thanks, Stiles."

The pair grabbed their backpacks and went inside, Stiles holding the door open for her and ogling at her house as if he’d never been there before.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” he commented.

Lydia didn’t have an answer to that.

When they got to Lydia’s room, the first thing Stiles did was gently set his backpack down and lightly take a seat on Lydia’s bed. He did not at all chuck his backpack with as much potential energy behind his swing as humanly possible for a scrawny 17 year old, nor did he run to jump and disgracefully land on Lydia’s bed.

“Lyds, I don’t remember your bed being so soft,” Stiles marveled, caressing the satiny sheets and closing his eyes in content.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” she informed him, plopping down next to him.

“You know what’s ridiculous? The absurdly long length of time since I’ve last lied upon your silky bed,” Stiles retorted.

Lydia couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing, covering her mouth again and nervously fixing her hair. When she turned back towards Stiles, she saw him smiling warmly at her. The tingling sensation in her gut returned, and she shook her head again. She pulled out her math book and set it on her lap.

“I’ve been so busy helping Malia with pretty much everything school related,” Stiles continued, now looking straight ahead. If Lydia didn’t know any better, she would’ve mistaken his tone for one of annoyance.

“You don’t have to help her with everything, you know. She could get a tutor."

“Tried that,” said Stiles monotonously, barely letting her finish the sentence.

Lydia chuckled. “What happened?”

“Almost clawed his face off when she didn’t understand what he was explaining. No, when it comes to school, I’m the only person who’s not endangered of being mauled apart by her.”

Lydia could just conjure an image of the werecoyote growing more impatient by the second with her tutor, growling, and spontaneously pouncing on him and savagely digging her ferocious claws into his face … Her mind’s eye frightened her sometimes.

“You still shouldn’t always have to help her, though,” Lydia remarked.

As to where that sudden boldness originated, she did not know.

“If I don’t help her, then who else will?” he queried, shrugging with what he'd attempted as a smile. It looked more like a grimace. 

“Stiles, you can help her, but … Don’t prioritize her academics over your own.”

“Who said I was?” Stiles scoffed incredulously. “Well, I guess, I mean … She’s my girlfriend, that's all. I got a little carried away."

Lydia nodded. 

"I know. It's okay. This is our senior year, though, and you should put your academics first."

"Okay, Mom." That stupid smirk was back.

Lydia elbowed a laughing Stiles. "Shut up."

"Never," he argued, ruffling her hair. 

Lydia bit her lip and looked down, her mussed red hair conveniently following suit to shield her face from Stiles’ view.

“Okay,” she began, tapping a rhythm on the textbook. “So, anyway, math. Where do you want to start?”

A hand was suddenly covering hers. Lydia started and her heart began thumping in her chest.

“Wait, Lydia. First, I … I wanna talk about you.”

Lydia looked up at him.

“Me? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, I guess I miss you. I mean, I haven’t been here in forever, and I feel like we haven’t talked in a while. I know you miss … Allison—”

Guilt clouded his features when he uttered her name. Lydia cringed at the pain so clearly etched on his expression.

“—And you haven’t seemed yourself. Which is completely understandable, because she was your best friend and—”

“Stiles—”

“Oh my god. I was ranting again, wasn’t I?” Stiles affirmed, running a flustered hand through his hair.

Lydia nodded with pursed lips.

“Yes,” she said gently. “But when don’t you? Anyway, what are you trying to say?”

Stiles sighed and took a deep breath.

“What I’m trying to say is that when I say I miss you, I don’t just mean that I miss you. I mean I miss you: the old you. You haven’t been yourself, and you’ve been sad. And I know I’ve been distant too …”

At this point, Stiles paused and bit his lip. He didn’t need to explain himself; they both knew why.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’ve been a pretty shitty friend.”

 _“I’ve_ been a bad friend, Stiles. I shut everybody out."

“Lydia.”

Lydia stopped and froze at the raw, palpable emotion behind that one word. She’d seen Stiles carefree and jubilant; she’d seen him reduced to a terrified, crumbling heap of a boy struggling for breath. But, somehow, this was different.

“You—” Stiles got out, shaking his head, putting his words together.

“You, Lydia, you have done amazing. You have done nothing wrong. Nothing. Words can’t even begin to describe how much nothing you’ve done wrong. And oh my god, did that even make sense? Back to, you know, the point. I-I haven’t been there for you, and I should have been. After everything you’ve done for me-”

“Stiles—”

“Lydia. Please let me apologize. You deserve to hear it,” he begged. “I promise that from now on, I will always be here if you need me.”

Lydia was about to put her foot down and go off on how much she most certainly did not need anyone, thank you very much, but she stopped. There was no use in lying to Stiles. She _did_ need him. She needed him, and she was in love with him. What a great combination. Hundreds of boys at her school who would go for her in a heartbeat, and she had to fall for the one who finally didn’t want her back.

“I don’t know what to say,” she confessed, tears brimming in her eyes.

“I do.”

And then he was kissing her, oh god, he was kissing her.

This wasn’t like when she initiated their first kiss, when tears and sweat had streaked down his face, when the panic had gripped her almost as tightly as it had him. Looking back, that moment had felt so surreal. But this was the realest thing she'd ever felt. 

Lydia kissed back fervently, her hands gently tossing the math book on the ground and then finding their way to his face and caressing. She sighed into his mouth as Stiles scooted closer to her and ran his hands through her luscious, red locks. She closed her eyes as waves of pleasure rolled over her.

Stiles left a trail of hot kisses starting at her earlobe, across her jaw line, and ending back on her pink, plump lips.

Then she remembered.

“Stiles,” she murmured breathlessly.

He pulled back immediately, either because he remembered as well, or simply because Lydia asked him to. In spite of herself Lydia desperately hoped it was the latter; she didn’t know many guys who responded that quickly to a command to halt.

“Malia … Stiles, Malia!” Lydia whisper-shouted, flabbergasted. “She-She’s your girlfriend, and I’m—”

“No.” Stiles was shaking his head. “I— No. Malia was— I don’t— I mean— A mistake. She was a mistake, Lydia.”

Lydia was practically having palpitations.

“What— What do you mean? You’re dating her!” she protested, in denial of what was happening.

“And I’m gonna need some advice on how to break up with her. I’ve never exactly let down a girl before,” a blushing Stiles informed her with a chortle.

Lydia relaxed her eyebrows and laughed breathily, still in shock.

“But—”

“It’s you, Lydia. It’s always been you,” Stiles professed quietly.

In the entirety of their friendship, Lydia had never heard Stiles sound so sure of anything. Lydia felt like she was floating; a weight she had grown so accustomed carrying was finally lifted from her shoulders. She embarked on a brief stroll down memory lane, traveling back to the night where she had just found out about the supernatural, about werewolves, when in the car Allison had described to her what the perfect boyfriend had been like …

_“Hey, he’s not just my boyfriend. You get that, right?”_

_“Let me go.”_

_“Just for one second, please try and remember—”_

_“Remember what?”_

_“Remember what it feels like. All of those times in school when you see him standing down the hall and you  … cannot breathe until you’re with him.”_

She could have that with Stiles.

_“Or … Those times in class when you— you can’t stop looking at the clock because you know that he’s standing right out there waiting for you. Don’t you remember what that’s like?”_

_“No.”_

_“What do you mean ‘no’? You’ve had boyfriends.”_

_“Not like that.”_

Now she could have that too.

Lydia could’ve melted into a puddle of tears, but she only allowed a few to slip from her green eyes.

“Stiles Stilinski,” she articulated softly, tracing her dainty fingers along his mole speckled jaw line.

“The one that got away. I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. I never thought I’d see the day.”

**Author's Note:**

> soo yeah there's that! please pleasee leave a comment even if it's constructive criticism I love feedback :)   
> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://lydiamrtun.tumblr.com)


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